Chapter 39: Dreamer and the Damned
Chapter 39: Dreamer and the Damned
...Oliver jolted awake, gasping for breath. His hands flew instinctively to his throat, as if searching for the wound that had ended him in that horrifying dream.
But there was nothing; No blood, no gash, no pain.
He blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the dim room.
Seraphina was still asleep on his father’s couch, a soft smile on her lips as she cuddled Richie Von Rich’s handkerchief like a cherished memory.
Oliver’s heart slowed, until he noticed the blood on his hands.
His breath caught. Panic surged again, but this time, his gaze shifted to the man still hanging lifelessly on the wall. His corpse was pale now, the floor beneath him drenched in red. It was his blood, not Oliver’s.
Somehow, while watching Seraphina sleep, Oliver had passed out on the floor. And now that he stood, careful not to wake her, he realized his wounds were were fully healed. The searing gashes and bruises had all vanished.
He flexed his fingers. No pain. No stiffness.
The blood of the dead man on the wall had further healed him.
But why the nightmare?
Just then, his eyes caught something new floating across his vision: